Rent Born to Kill (1947)

Caught in a Trap - Born to Kill review by CH

The hills are alive with the sound of... murder.

Perhaps most widely known for an epic account of the von Trapp family, Robert Wise began life as a director with a number of brisk thrillers such as the real-time night of The Set-Up, the masterly Odds against Tomorrow and, most startling, Born to Kill (1947).

From a now-very scarce novel Deadlier than the Male by James Gunn, it opens in Reno where sultry Claire Trevor - to the hilt what was once called a mean broad - is now divorced. New-found equilibrium is disturbed by her chancing to find - and flee from - the bodies of an attractive woman and potential lover freshly killed in a dark kitchen by a hulking, psychotically jealous Lawrence Tierney.

Come the railroad station, they meet on the platform, unaware of this connection. They talk, and, naturally, all this takes such a noir turn as his meeting her again amidst the San Francisco hills and wide staircases of the house where he meets, and marries, her rich sister. Such a man, of course, remains dangerously smitten, and Claire Trevor does not brush him off.

All the while, did he but know it, there is a Fury to match Ida from Brighton Rock. Esther Howard is the redoubtable landlady of the Reno rooming house who has her suspicions and, what’s more, has engaged the services of private detective Walter Slezak, a man born for rôles as sleazy as his surname. The trail hots up, with the strange diversion of Tierney being aided - even to the point of sharing a bed - by that familiar fellow, the slight, ever-nervous Elisha Cook.

Here is no star-driven “vehicle” but ensemble playing which risks treachery at every step (the detective gives a masterclass in the niceties of being bought off). Born to Kill carries its superior hokum aloft. Wise reaches for the familiar haunts and dark streets of noir while keepng up a pace which also allows time for the characters to talk - beguilingly or threateningly, as circumstances require.

It would be difficult to picture Julie Andrews in any remake of this. With all its shades of the creepy, here is a cult item - a status enhanced by David Lynch adopting the name of its first victim Laury Palmer as the Laura of that ilk whose early end caused so much trouble in small-town Twin Peaks.

There is even a reference here to the aroma of coffee.

A damn fine film.

Hard Boiled. - Born to Kill review by Steve

The opening credits roll over a still of long legs in heels, promising salacious glamour. But nothing in all of film noir prepares us for how sleazy this film is. Maybe the censors were asleep; the narrative is occasionally sluggish. But Born to Kill lands a low punch of astonishing brutality. Even the good guy, the droll investigator (Walter Slezak) will let the murderer walk for a price.

It's a hard boiled noir about two insatiable sociopaths: Lawrence Tierney plays a violent, egotistical killer; Claire Trevor is a poor relation who wants some of the family fortune and doesn't mind how she gets it. They absolve each other's guilt. He murders a woman, and she covers up. Tierney then marries her wealthy step-sister (Audrey Long) but prefers sex with his broadminded accomplice.

Everyone is compromised in some way. The psychopath has a (plainly) homosexual relationship with his submissive, scuzzy sidekick, brilliantly played by Elisha Cook, who will kill to clear any obstacles to his boyfriend's desires. The spoiled step-sister will protect her dangerous husband from the police to satisfy her sexual obsession.

The dialogue is startlingly frank. When the moll tells an old woman how it will feel when the psycho kills her, she seems to experience physical pleasure. The lovers take a sensual thrill from how corrupt they are. This is a morally and visually dark film, with a rich film noir look. Tierney and Trevor are phenomenally trashy as well as degenerate. This one has to be seen to be believed.